Blurring the Line
by newbie93
Summary: New conflicts arise for the occupants of Beacon Hills as the line between ally and enemy becomes blurred.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey so this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction of any sort. I love reading how others think the story may go and decided that I'd try it out. Let me know if I should continue or just stick to reading. I really love the show, but I don't own it. **_

Pain. That's the only thing that he registered while sprinting through the damp woods. If someone were to confront him at this very moment and demand to know his name, he wouldn't be able to tell them. The distraction of the broken ribs and dislocated shoulder, in addition to the deep cuts that covered his body, prevented him from having any semblance of a coherent thought. The burning sensation seemed to consume him. His legs. His abdomen. His arm. Everywhere.

Not since being shot in the Hale house had Scott experienced anything quite so excruciating. Until tonight, Scott had never felt anything close to the sensation he felt as the bullet shot by the late Kate Argent pierced through his abdomen. In all honesty, even that night in the Hale house didn't quite match the feeling Scott currently had. Had someone asked him then if anything could feel quite as painful as a bullet laced with wolfsbane, he would have laughed at the absurdity. Looking back, he realizes how stupid he was to think that he had already met the worst of it. The fear and pain that Scott had faced in the months since being bitten by Peter Hale was nothing in comparison to the agony that rippled through his body while navigating through the Beacon Hills preserve.

The gloomy fog that surrounded Beacon Hills was doing little to aid Scott in maneuvering his way through the dense forest. Stumbling through the abandoned woods, Scott did his best to put distance between himself and the place he just was. The thick roots of the monstrous California trees seemed to be working against Scott. The tangled limbs of the forest's branches were everywhere, seemingly more inescapable than those who were already pursuing him. If Stiles were here with him, he would undoubtedly reference Scott's unintentional personification of the surrounding trees. Like always, he would pick the worst timing to spout off the random facts that he had acquired during his many Adderall-induced Wikipedia searches. The awkward rambling of his best friend, although generally tolerated by Scott, would have only slowed the young werewolf down in this particular situation.

Scott's signature baggy jeans were barely recognizable as he flew through the wooded area. Torn from the ankle to his knee, the jeans had become more like a pair of shorts. Scott was surprised to see that his shredded white shirt was coated in what appeared to be a layer of mud. Gasping for breath, Scott collapsed against a tree. The jagged, shallow breaths reminded Scott of his life as a severe asthmatic prior to being transformed into a werewolf. The tiny clearing that Scott had stumbled across provided him with enough moonlight to see that his shirt was not stained with mud like he initially thought, it was a deep crimson.

Peering beneath the tattered t-shirt, Scott was met with a gruesome view of the white bone of his ribcage. The gash on his abdomen, which was far worse than he expected, explained his sudden difficulty with breathing. The broken ribs had undoubtedly punctured his lung, thus inflicting damage that would take a substantial amount of time to heal. Even for a werewolf. Desperate to escape the vastness of the encroaching forest, as well as the tireless individuals who were trailing him, Scott struggled to drag himself off of the forest floor and continue his trek through the wooded terrain. The muffled shouting that he heard in the distance motivated Scott enough to increase his pace.

It was almost comical, he thought, that he once again found himself in this situation. He was a kid, his mother reminded him of it on a daily basis, yet here he was. Literally running for his life. Clutching at his abdomen in an attempt to slow the bleeding of just one of his many serious injuries. The term, "déjà vu," seemed to be the only appropriate description of the predicament that Scott was once again placed in. Doing anything to distract himself from the unbearable ache that had permeated throughout his body, Scott reflected on his last experience with déjà vu. The formal. The buses. Allison. The mere thought of her name gave Scott a much-needed burst of adrenaline.

_Flashback_

Since the Argent family's discovery of Scott's werewolf nature, the obstacles placed in front of the young lovers escalated to an entirely new level. A deal had been made between Chris Argent and a reluctant Scott McCall. The experienced hunter would leave Scott alone so long as the latter would distance himself from Allison. The patriarch of the Argent family was easily one of the most threatening people that Scott had encountered and aside from Derek, there was only one person who was more intimidating than Chris Argent. His daughter.

Allison's discovery of the deal made between Scott and her father resulted in the most frightening encounter Scott had ever had with the usually sweet and approachable girl.

In the days immediately following his conversation with Chris Argent, Scott did his best to evade Allison's phone calls. The traumatic events that had occurred at the Hale house had resulted in a perfect combination of uneasiness and agitation for Scott, which did not go unnoticed by his mother. Chalking her son's odd behavior up to the annual sicknesses that frequented high schools during the winter months, Melissa McCall deemed it necessary for Scott to miss a few days of school in order to prevent the spread of whatever virus he had contracted.

By the third day of no school, Scott found that the separation between himself and his peers was more difficult than he had been anticipating. The frequent chatter of Stiles at school was replaced with television and video games, while the brief kisses and smiles of Allison were replaced with longing glances to the missed call log on his cell phone. Grabbing his headphones and iPod, Scott flopped down on his bed and closed his eyes. In an attempt to drown out the constant chatter in his mind, Scott blared the music to the point where even his wolf-hearing could no longer make out anything other than the steady beat of the drum set in the song. Tuning out all of his surroundings, Scott was unaware that his furious girlfriend had climbed through his window and was standing above him.

Picking up a discarded pillow from the floor, Allison Argent used all of her power, most of which stemmed from pent-up of frustration with the men in her life, and smacked her unsuspecting boyfriend in the head. Leaping off the bed in a state of shock, Scott McCall turned his piercing yellow eyes on his irate girlfriend. Quickly realizing who had attacked him in his room, Scott took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm him-self and remove any trace of his wolf-form. While Scott was doing this, Allison reared back and smacked him for the second time with the pillow. Stumbling back, Scott peered at Allison with a look of astonishment.

"Don't. Don't you dare look at me like that. I've called you two dozen times in the last week, left half a dozen messages, and have stuttered like an idiot when people have asked me if you're okay. I mean, I can't blame them can I, I'm your girlfriend so naturally they would assume that I have some idea as to what's happened to you." Now pacing across Scott's bedroom floor, Allison is becoming more exasperated. "Seriously Scott, after everything that's happened in the past few weeks, I expected the lying to be done with," Allison said with a look of utter disgust. "If I had known that you'd be keeping even more secrets from me, I wouldn't have…"

"Wouldn't have what?" Scott's question was rhetorical. He knew full well what she wouldn't have done. The reciprocated "I love you" seemed far too good to be true. During the last full moon he had imagined a lot of crazy things, however, the one thing that seemed logical to him was the question that he thought was presented to him on his economics test. Why would a girl that pretty ever go out with a loser like you? He had pondered the question multiple times throughout the course of his relationship with Allison, more so since her discovery of him being a werewolf. The insecurities that had plagued Scott since childhood had come out in full force since meeting the stunning Allison Argent. Smart. Pretty. Funny. Perfect. Even during the happiest times of their relationship, Scott was waiting. Waiting for the moment when she would suddenly realize that Scott McCall wasn't even close to being in the same league as herself.

"I wouldn't have freaked out at my dad after finding out about the little deal the two of you made behind my back. I basically told him that I'd rather be dating werewolves than hurting them. I even left home for a few days and stayed with Lydia. I don't think he's ever been that pissed at me, and I wouldn't have done it if I knew that you were going to avoid me." The look on her face was one of complete betrayal but Scott didn't see it, nor did he fully process what his girlfriend just told him.

"Look Allison it's okay really. I get it. You don't love me and you regret telling me you did. Seriously. Totally understandable. It was crazy to think that you liked me let alone lov…oof!" Mid-sentence Scott was once again hit upside the head with what used to be his favorite pillow.

"Seriously Scott? Will you just listen for once! Get it through your head, I loved you before I knew you were a wolf and I still do. I just can't believe you would do something so stupid, like make a deal with my father regarding our relationship, and not talk to me about it." Allison's anger came out in full force as she began to quicken her well-rehearsed speech. "Not only did you not talk to me, you completely ignored me. Did you even listen to the voicemails I left you?" Allison's exasperation with her boyfriend was evident.

"Uh… I wanted to, but I told your dad that I would stay away from you and I was afraid that if I heard your voice I wouldn't be able to stop myself from talking to you." The confession came out in a jumbled rush.

The eye-roll that followed from Allison couldn't be matched by anyone, including the King of Sarcasm Stiles Stilinsky. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath Allison prepared to reprimand her boyfriend once again. Opening her eyes and looking at Scott, she was struck by his appearance. He looked… pitiful. Not in a way that made him seem weak or like a loser. No, he looked pitiful in a way that made her realize the extent of his feelings for her. He looked like… a heartbroken puppy. The comparison of Scott to a puppy was too much for Allison and caused an enormous grin to break out across her face. Suddenly she collapsed on the bed laughing.

Scott, who had been staring at his feet in an ashamed way, looked up at his girlfriend's sudden display of happiness. Looking quizzically towards Allison, Scott was met with an image that he wouldn't have expected to see for quite some time after the fury that was just unleashed on him. While attempting to compose herself, still letting out the occasional giggle, Allison once again peered at Scott. Behind the look of utter bewilderment, Allison saw something in Scott that quickly sobered her and wiped the childish grin off of her face. Studying Scott, Allison realized for the first time how absolutely exhausted he must be. The look of anguish that was found on Scott's face was accentuated by dark circles located beneath each of his eyes.

"What happened to you? Are you hurt?" Forgetting her frustration with her boyfriend, Allison knelt at the edge of the bed and closely examined Scott's face. Using her thumb to trace the bags under Scott's eyes, Allison quickly morphed into a protective girlfriend. "Have you not been sleeping?"

The question was innocent enough, however, based on Scott's reaction, you would have thought Allison had just asked him about the most intimate of subjects. The abashed look that appeared on Scott's face was paired with his eyes quickly finding solace in the appearance of the ceiling.

"Uh, I've kinda been keeping an eye on you. Not in a creepy stalker way or anything! It's just I was worried about you, after everything that happened with Peter and your aunt I mean, but I told your dad I'd stay away so… I've just been watching you sleep. And saying it out loud I hear how creepy it is, but honestly I just wanted to make sure that you were safe and I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfort…" For the second time that day Scott was cut off mid-sentence, this time not by a smack to the head, but by a searing kiss from the girl he was in love with.

Breaking apart the two teenagers locked eyes with one another. A coy smile blossomed across Allison's face as she gazed at the amazed look on Scott's face. "Why did you do that?" He asked the question with a mischievous grin, which was quickly mirrored by Allison. "Because I love you."

_End Flashback_

Rain. Perfect. The uphill journey to the highway at the edge of the forest was difficult enough for the quickly weakening Scott. The downpour that came out of nowhere was transforming the already damp forest floor into a muddy gauntlet. For every foot of progress came a two-foot decrease in improvement. Slipping his way to the top of the muddy hill, Scott was greeted with the last barrier that separated him from some semblance of safety. Standing at the edge of town, Scott was hit with a wave of dizziness that alerted him of how badly he needed help. Needing to divert his attention from the numbness caused by the rain, the pain caused by the wounds, and the fear caused by those who were chasing him, Scott thought of anything and everything he could to propel himself towards help.

The night was already the worst of Scott's life. And it seemed that it wouldn't be getting better anytime soon. The mile walk back into town gave him plenty of time to decide his best course of action. Going home was out of the question, it's the first place they'd expect him to go. Stiles' house was an option but he didn't really feel like facing the onslaught of questions that his friend would ask him. He needed to go to a place where someone, who already knew about him, could help him with his injuries. He knew that he didn't have long. He was growing weaker by the second and didn't think that he'd be able to stay conscious much longer. The amount of blood that he'd lost was definitely problematic and he needed someone he could trust. Or maybe… he needed someone that he shouldn't trust, yet for some reason did.

Redoubling his pace Scott staggered his way to a house that was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. A place that he'd been forbidden from visiting again. Collapsing against the door, Scott simultaneously rang the doorbell and pounded his fist against the door. Hearing footsteps he took a step back from the door, fully aware of how awful he must look. Bleeding profusely from multiple wounds, standing on one leg in an attempt to keep all of the weight off of his other aching one, mud and blood staining every inch of his clothing. He was a mess, standing dejectedly with the rain beating down on him. The door opened and Scott made his plea. "Please. You're the only one I could come to. I need your help." And with that everything when black as Scott collapsed across the doorstep.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Just a heads up, school is starting for me so updates probably won't be as frequent as I'd like them to be. I appreciate all of the reviews and am going to try my best to continue with the story. I don't own Teen Wolf. **_

Allison Argent was sitting casually at her desk, preparing herself for the nightly routine that her father had started since the incident at the Hale house. The questions were always the same. "How are you doing? How's Lydia doing? Is there anything you want to talk about?" Allison had perfected her answers at this point, finding a perfect balance of teenage sarcasm and reluctant honesty. After realizing that the brief monotone answers he was receiving was all he would get, Chris Argent would pat his daughter on the leg and walk towards the door. Before closing the door, without fail, he would look over his shoulder and ask, "How about Scott?"

Rolling her eyes now at how predictably blunt her father was when alluding to the deal made with Scott McCall, Allison thought about her boyfriend. It had been days since she had seen him in a setting outside of school. The secrecy that now surrounded their relationship made it difficult to spend time together without anyone finding out. Scott's lacrosse responsibilities, combined with Allison's studious habits, left little time in the day for the two teenagers to have a lengthy conversation. The longing glances across classrooms, accidental bumps in the hallways, and mischievous grins exchanged throughout the day were the only indication that their relationship was in tact.

Smiling to herself, Allison quickly glanced towards the door. Her father had yet to enter which was unusual for the generally punctual Chris Argent. Remembering that the phone had rung just a few moments ago, Allison realized that her father was probably immersed in an in depth conversation with the new hunters that had arrived shortly after the deaths of Kate Argent and Peter Hale. Thinking of the newest additions to the town of Beacon Hills caused a shiver to go down Allison's spine. Peter Hale had been terrifying and her aunt was sadistic, but these new hunters were a frightening combination of the two.

One of the only reasons Allison had agreed to the secrecy of her relationship with Scott was that she didn't want her boyfriend anywhere near the hunters that frequented the Argent home. Based on her limited interactions with the wolves of Beacon Hills, Allison knew that Scott was someone who would be an easy target for the intense new hunters. If Allison had to spend less time with Scott in order to keep him safe, she would. The thought of something bad happening to Scott as a direct result of her family's occupation was one that haunted Allison daily.

After discovering that Scott was a werewolf, Allison had grilled her boyfriend on everything that had happened since his initial transformation. Now privy to all things "wolf," Allison realizes that the majority of Scott's odd behavior was the result of him trying to keep his friends and family safe. Learning of what he did for Jackson in the Hale house gave Allison nightmares for days. Images of Scott being shot while she waited, unaware, in his own house floated through her mind constantly.

Reaching haphazardly for her phone while waiting idly for her father, Allison thought back to a conversation she had with Stiles concerning their favorite werewolf.

_Flashback_

Allison had been walking through the halls towards her final class of the day when the books she had been carrying were knocked from her arms. Crouching down to remove her French literature from the disgusting high school floor, Allison glanced up into the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen. All coherent thought was wiped from her mind when the brown eyes crinkled as a crooked smile emerged on the face of the klutz who had bumped into her.

"Sorry about that, I guess I just wasn't paying attention to where I was going." Scott McCall scooped up Allison's books from the floor while simultaneously helping his girlfriend up from the ground. Allison felt her cheeks flush as her hand grazed her boyfriend's. "I uh… I guess I'll see you later." The wink that Scott far from subtly added to the statement made Allison chuckle as she watched her boyfriend turn and briskly make his way through the overcrowded hallway.

Allison grinned as he walked away, counting down in the back of her head. "3..2..1…" There. Scott looked over his shoulder as an enormous smile broke out across his face. Tucking a strand of loosely fallen hair behind her ear, Allison glanced down at her books, only to find a folded up piece of paper lying innocently across the front cover. Opening the scrap of paper Allison felt her smile re-emerge. Scribbled in the her boyfriend's messy handwriting was, _"You look beautiful today. Have lacrosse after school but I want to see you again. Come to practice! You can entertain Stiles since Coach'll probably have him sitting out during the scrimmage. Love you."_

Brought out of her reverie by the second bell ringing, Allison hurried her way to class, preparing to count down the minutes until her next encounter with Scott. The class flew by and Allison made her way outside to sit on the bleachers and watch the lacrosse team practice. Noticing Stiles sitting dejectedly on the first row of bleachers, Allison gracefully seated herself next to him. Turning to see who had interrupted his wallowing, Stiles was pleased to see that it was the newest addition to the, "TAoW Club." Those Aware of Werewolves was a less than subtle title, however, Stiles felt that the bluntness was appropriate for something as seemingly ludicrous as lycanthropy.

"Allison! How is my favorite werewolf hunter doing on this fine day?" The remark was loud enough to turn a few nearby heads as Allison quickly shushed an oblivious Stiles. Finally catching on to the look of warning on Allison's face, Stiles chose to change the topic to something a little more neutral. "Hey look, Scott passed the ball to Danny again. Sheesh, we get it, he's sorry for hitting him a few weeks ago." Stiles muttered loud enough for only Allion to hear. Standing up and cupping his hands around his mouth Stiles yelled, "COME ON SCOTT, TRY ACTUALLY SCORING YOURSELF!" After seeing the glare sent to him by his best friend, Stile plopped back down on the bench next to a quizzical Allison.

"Stiles…?" The curious girl attempted to get the boy's attention. "Hmm?" Focusing more on the game in front of him than the girl next to him, Stiles answered with a neutral response. "Stiles, why _did_ Scott hit Danny? I mean, he usually says that Danny's the only one on the team who doesn't try to make his life miserable." Stiles, still not fully listening responded with a shrug. "Yeah well it was a full moon so Scott was going a little berserk." With that response, Allison quickly looked up from her hands. "Oh. Stiles… what exactly happens to him on the full moon. I mean does he really act that different? I'm only asking because we were broken up last time so I didn't really interact with him." Bingo, she thought. This was the question she should have asked all along. The normally fidgety Stiles immediately stilled as his brows furrowed.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah he's different." The suddenly melancholy Stiles did nothing to quell Allison's curiosity, if anything her intrigue was heightened. "Ok Stiles, I'm still feeling in the dark with the whole wolf topic so please, please, can you just give me more. Anything! How is he different?" The desperation in the girl's voice worked. "Well lets see," Stiles began animatedly ticking off his fingers as he recounted his friend's behavior during the full moon. "He wigged out in class and started imagining test questions that didn't exist, he made out with Lydia when he was supposed to be finding out if she liked me, he gave Danny a bloody nose, and acted like a total douche when I handcuffed him to the radiator. Then, all of a sudden, he just started screaming in agony and then disappeared." All of this was said in a rush that left Stiles breathless.

A silent Allison looked across the field at her boyfriend before turning back to Stiles. Choosing to ignore most of Stiles' rant Allison chose to focus on only one of the details that was mentioned. "It hurts him?" The question itself would have slowed Stiles down, but coming from Allison, it stopped him completely. Delivered with so much sadness and fear, Allison's question triggered Stiles' own worry for his best friend. Looking down, he replied just as softly, "Yeah. It hurts him."

_End Flashback_

Knowing that it wasn't only the hunters that hurt Scott made it increasingly difficult for Allison not to worry about the young werewolf. He had gone through more in a semester than most would experience in multiple lifetimes. In the past few weeks Allison had redoubled her efforts to become more skilled with the armory found in her family garage. Determined to do anything to help Scott avoid the paths of the town's newest occupants.

Allison was torn from her thoughts by the loudest combination of noises she had heard in a while. A harsh pounding on the door was accompanied by the repeated ringing of the doorbell. Running out to the top of the stairwell, Allison glanced down from the banister to see her father approach the door. Whoever was at the other side was not someone that he wanted to see based on the immediate clenching of his fists. Allison heard a muffled voice laced with panic mention something about help before, whoever it was, collapsed across the threshold of the Argent family home.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thanks for all of the reviews. I'm really trying to update as often as I can but it's tough balancing FF with my schoolwork so bear with me. Still don't own Teen Wolf.**_

Chris Argent was furious. Slamming the phone back into the receiver, he squeezed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the anger that was caused by his conversation with his new allies.

The weeks following his sister's death were disastrous to say the least. The small town gossip of Beacon Hills seemed to follow each member of the Argent family. Neighbors talking in hushed whispers. Classmates pointing and staring. The news of Kate Argent's involvement in the fire that had destroyed the Hale home was met by the town's occupants with shock and outrage. Used to facing the curious stares of other people, Chris was hardly fazed by the town's sudden interest in his personal business. No, what upset Chris was his daughter's reaction to her family's newfound infamy.

Allison's first day back to school ended with her storming into her family home demanding to be taught how to use the arsenal of weapons stored throughout the house. The cold stare that Chris Argent met when he peered into the eyes of his daughter was frightening. Chris Argent had always lived by the code, however, he had seen first hand that each hunter had a different approach to the controlling of werewolves. The stubborn, piercing glare of his daughter was one that he had seen countless times when gazing at his sister. Chris Argent was frightened that Allison would propel herself into the life of a cold-hearted hunter, as her aunt had previously, and become lost in the thrill of the hunt.

The death of his sister. His daughter's newfound proclivity for the life of a hunter. The social uneasiness of the town. Each of the problems Chris Argent was facing could be linked to one individual. Scott McCall. Though just a boy, Scott had managed to effectively destroy the life that Chris once lived.

Staring out the window at the pouring rain, Chris questioned, not for the first time, the motives behind the newest group of hunters. The terrible weather matched Chris' mood, as well as the sinister feeling he got when thinking of the men who had come to rid Beacon Hills of its werewolf population. Kate was rash and ambitious, which caused her to make many mistakes regarding her own humanity. These men. Chris feared that they had no humanity. Exuding power and confidence, the new hunters made it clear that should anyone, werewolf or human, get in their way, they would be exterminated. Chris's discomfort was his main reason for making a deal with Scott. It seemed that staying clear of the young werewolf would allow him to evade the wrath of the hunters. Protecting Allison was Chris Argent's priority and he wasn't going to let a teenage crush do anything to put his daughter in harms way.

_Flashback_

Opening the door, Chris Argent came face to face with a nervous Scott McCall. Hands stuffed in his jean pockets, feet rocking back and forth on the front steps. The boy was anxious and rightly so. The older man was as menacing as they come. Welcoming Scott inside in a brisk and cool manner, Chris Argent shut the door forcefully behind him and led the young boy into the living room.

"Sit." The demand got its proper response when Scott practically tripped over himself in his haste to obey the older man's orders. "This conversation is long overdue Scott. You are a werewolf. I hunt werewolves. What do you propose would be a mutually beneficial solution to this predicament?" The azure eyes of Chris Argent bore into the young boy with a ferocity that was unmatched by anyone.

"Um, sir, Mr. Argent sir, I though that you followed some sort of code. I haven't hurt anyone so… ar..aren't we good?" Scott stammered. Glancing anywhere but Mr. Argent's eyes, Scott did his best to not display how truly terrified he was of his girlfriend's father. "Well Scott. The issue isn't about me hurting you. I'm sure Allison has already told you that Beacon Hills will have some new occupants within the next few days. These associates won't be as tolerant of you as I have been if they discover what you are." Although Chris was doing his best to intimidate the boy, he didn't say anything that was untruthful. Anyone discovering what Scott was would be problematic.

"What, uh, what are you saying?" Willingly meeting Chris Argent's eyes for the first time, Scott asked the question in a voice of desperation. "I can't help you with this crowd Scott. If they find out about you, they _will_ kill you, along with anyone that tries to help you." This statement caused Scott to cast a furtive glance at the ceiling. Perfect. Based on past interactions with Scott, Chris feared that it would take longer for Scott to realize what he was implying about Allison. Again, it wasn't a lie. Anyone associated with the Beacon Hill wolves would become targets for the new hunters, and Chris Argent wasn't about to let anyone hurt his daughter. "I'll help you Scott, as best as I can. I'll try and steer them clear of anything that may trace back to you, but if I do, I'll need something from you."

Scott's brows furrowed as he thought about the older man's offer. He had a feeling he knew what would be asked of him, and he wasn't sure he was capable of it. He rose to his feet to meet the eyes of Argent. "What do you need from me?" Chris was slightly taken aback by Scott's sudden display of boldness, however, he didn't let it show. "You are to stay away from my daughter. You are to remove all forms of contact with her and remove her from the danger you've put her in." Contemplating the demand, Scott once again glanced upstairs to where he could hear Allison's heart beating in her room. The decision was both the easiest and most difficult he had ever made. Protecting Allison was his biggest priority and he would do anything to keep her safe. On the other hand, he remembered the brief time they were broken up, and how awful he felt while unable to speak to her. Hanging his head and rubbing his eyes, Scott gave Chris the answer he wanted to hear. "If you can help me, I can stay away from her."

_End Flashback_

That had been weeks ago, and Chris was beginning to suffer the consequences of the deal. Allison's discovery of the agreement had led to the biggest argument he could remember having with his only daughter. Allison's fury with her family was a constant. No discussion with the girl lasted more than a minute as her answers were brief and to the point. Chris had the feeling that something was amiss with his daughter, however, the teenager's silent treatment made it impossible to discern what was wrong.

Glancing out the window again, Chris decided that it was time to have a serious discussion with his daughter. Making his way out of the living room, Chris began his ascent up the stairs. Before reaching the second step however, Chris' ears were met with a loud pounding and even louder ringing. Spinning on his heel, Chris strode to the front door and opened it to find Scott McCall. Clenching his fists in anger at the sight of the boy, Chris allowed himself to take in Scott's disheveled appearance. Bloody and soaking, Scott looked less like a sixteen-year old boy and more like a fallen war hero. Glancing over his shoulder, Scott pleaded with Chris, "Please. You're the only one I could come to. I need your help." The panic was evident in his voice and the only thing Chris thought as Scott collapsed across his doorway was, "They found him."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hey, sorry it took me so long to update this. I've been incredibly busy and haven't had a lot of time to sit down and focus. I should have a less hectic schedule in the upcoming months so hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently. Sorry again and thanks to anyone who stuck with me.**_

"Damn it!" Her father's yell would have been less startling if it hadn't been accompanied by his fist going through her mother's perfectly decorated wall. Grasping his hands behind his head gave Allison a clear view of the veins that were protruding from her father's reddening neck. "Dad? What's going on?"

The speed at which Chris Argent turned around stunned his daughter. Shifting slightly to his left, so that Allison had no visual of whoever just collapsed across the Argent threshold, Chris Argent smiled up at his daughter. "Nothing you need to be concerned with Allison. I'll handle it." Allison had been lied to by her father enough times to recognize when his harsh dismissals were meant to put a stop to any further questions. "Are you kidding me dad? After everything that's happened in the last few months you're still lying to me!" Allison was well aware of the guilt her father had regarding the lies and secrecy that had plagued the Argent household, and she was not afraid of using her father's remorse against him. The creases that emerged on Chris Argent's forehead, in addition to the sigh of exasperation, informed Allison that her outburst had its desired effect. "Allison honey," Chris said while taking a step forward, "You need to understand that there are some things that I just CAN'T tell you." The slight movement allowed Allison to get a glimpse of the unconscious individual lying in the entryway. The sight of a seemingly dead man across the doorstep would have been alarming enough, but the incredible amount of crimson blood that was seeping onto the pristine white tiles of the Argent family home took Allison's breath away.

Looking up at his daughter, who was poised gracefully against the banister, Chris noticed the look of shock and horror on her face. Chris was aware that his daughter would be upset by his refusal to provide her with any additional information, but he was slightly confused by the intensity of her reaction. Examining his daughter's face, Chris noticed that her focus was slightly to the left of his blue eyes. The body. She could clearly see it. Closing his eyes, Chris waited for the scream that was sure to come. After moments of silence, he looked up, puzzled, to find Allison still leaning against the ornate banister. Missing from her face were the tears and fright that Chris had been expecting. Instead, Allison's face reflected curiosity and intrigue. The lack of emotion from his daughter informed Chris that Allison had yet to realize that it was Scott McCall who was hidden beneath the caked blood and mud.

As Allison began to descend the stairs, attempting to discern the identity of the mystery man, Chris blockaded the landing. "Dammit Allison. Stop!" The volume and ferocity of Chris' demand halted Allison in her tracks. Cold blue eyes matched brown as Chris gazed into the bewildered eyes of his daughter. The shock across Allison's face transformed into fury and determination in an instant. Rather than backing away, as Chris was hoping she would, Allison took a step further and steadily held her father's gaze. "Dad… he's dying we need to help him!" Allison's statement was as fierce as her father's stern expression. "We. Do not need to do anything. You. Go to your room. Now."

Disgusted with her father, Allison rolled her eyes and scoffed. Folding her arms across her chest, Allison glared at her father. "Not. Going. To Happen." Allison utilized all of her pent up frustration in order to stand her ground, never willing to admit how frightening her father was to her. Grabbing his daughter's arm, Chris argent spun Allison around and physically moved her up the stairwell. "Dad! Dad stop! Dad he could die!" No longer able to maintain her collected persona, Allison voice broke and the desperation seeped out. "Dammit Allison, he's a werewolf! He'll be fine! I'm sure he's been hurt worse." The words flew out of his mouth before Chris realized what he was saying. Revealing that small piece of information was all it took for Allison to put the pieces together.

Whipping around in shock, Allison gazed at the man lying across the floor. Werewolf. The man was a werewolf. Except, as she stared at the disheveled body, Allison realized that it wasn't a man at all. It was a boy. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, making it difficult to catch her breath. Gasping rapidly, Allison fell limp in her father's arms. Not since the night of the winter formal had Allison felt weak enough to rely on the unwavering strength of her father. The grisly scene that she witnessed was that of a dying young werewolf. Scott. Scott was dying.

_Flashback_

Allison was lying in bed, feet dangling off the edge, waiting for the clock to read 5:00. Sighing in boredom, Allison haphazardly played with the loose strands of her curly brown hair. Hearing a click at her door, Allison hastily sat up. Crossing her room in a hurry, Allison whipped her door open to reveal… nothing. Glancing up and down the hallway with a puzzled expression, Allison shook her head and closed her door. Placing her forehead against the cool wood of her bedroom door, Allison muttered to herself, "You're losing your mind. You are slowly going crazy." A chuckle from behind her back caused Allison to quickly spin around and face her, now open, window. "They do say that the first sign of mental deterioration is the overwhelming need to talk to yourself…" A very smug Scott McCall told his still stupefied girlfriend.

"You. Are and ass." Allison glared at her boyfriend as she said it. Hopping off of the window ledge, Scott made his way to an irritated Allison. Scratching his head in the adorable way that he knew Allison loved, Scott peered into the chocolate eyes of his girlfriend. "You're totally right. Will you forgive me?" Not willing to give up so easily, Allison shrugged and huffed as she strode past Scott, "I'll think about."

Grabbing her wrist as she walked past, Scott spun Allison around so that they locked eyes. "And what if I do this?" Scott gave Allison a chaste kiss and glanced imploringly at her. Momentarily disoriented, Allison shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. Regaining her composure, Allison stared deep into Scott's eyes. "I said… I'll. Think. About it." Allison's stubbornness was not lost on Scott as an irresistible crooked smile bloomed across his face. Placing his hands on either side of Allison's face, Scott inched closer to her until their lips were millimeter apart. "How about this?" Scott whispered quietly before capturing Allison's mouth with his own. The kiss quickly escalated and Scott's ears were met with the rapid sound of Allison's quickening heartbeat. Breaking away before the wolf came out, Scott peered at Allison, who was trying to regain her breath. Allison's eyes flew open as she met the liquid gold gaze of her boyfriend. Looking to the ceiling, Allison sighed. "Oh alright. I suppose that will do." Locking eyes with Scott, Allison smiled. "You're forgiven."

Scott smiled as he lifted Allison off her feet and placed her on the bed. Hovering above her, Scott gave her a peck on the lips. His face suddenly became serious. "Good. I'm glad you can forgive me. For everything…" Using what strength she had, Allison managed to flip Scott onto his back as she straddled his waist, with her hands placed on either side of his head. "How many times do we have to go through this Scott? You need to stop seeing yourself as a monster who needs the forgiveness of others. There's nothing to forgive." Allison punctuated each word with a kiss. Scott smiled up at his girlfriend and sat up against the headrest of the bed, patting the spot next to him. Allison grinned as she curled up next to her boyfriend, placing her head against his solid chest.

Momentarily distracted by Scott's tender stroking of her hair, Allison tilted her head and peered at her boyfriend with a scrutinizing expression. Sensing that something was bothering her, Scott glanced down at Allison. "Penny for your thoughts?" Allison smiled and began to trace the patterns on Scott's shirt. "Just a penny?" Chuckling at his girlfriend's response, Scott stared, intrigued by Allison's evasiveness. "Seriously Allison. Is there something you wanted to talk about?" Sitting up, Allison refused to meet Scott's questioning gaze and began fiddling with her thumbs. "I just. I just wish I knew what you had to go through… as a wolf I mean. And I was just thinking about what you told me about Peter giving you his memories." Scott, still not understanding what Allison was grasping at, continued to peer quizzically at his girlfriend. Sighing, Allison's speech became faster. "Well, I just figured that, I want to know about your wolf life, and you can technically show me… and it would just be a little scratch. It wouldn't even hurt that bad and I just think you should do it." Allison winced at her feeble argument.

Scott's reaction was worse than what Allison had expected. Leaping off the bed, Scott began to pace furiously. "No. No no no no." Shaking his head with each "no," Scott's breathing became heavier and heavier. "Absolutely not. Are you out of your freaking mind?" Scott was shouting at this point. "Do you know how dangerous that would be? I could kill you!" Rolling her eyes, Allison stood up and stopped Scott from his pacing. "You're being a little overdramatic Scott. Jackson told me what happened to him, he just felt a little sick." Scott threw his hands in the air and stared at Allison as if she really had gone crazy. "Because he was poisoned! Jackson felt a little sick because he was poisoned Allison! Do you honestly think I would ever willingly poison you?" Scott was now inches away from Allison, staring earnestly at her in an attempt to sway her. Grasping his face in her hands, Allison stared into Scott's eyes in an attempt to calm him down. "Shh. Breathe. Just breathe."

After regaining his composure, Scott took a step away from Allison. "Why? Why would you want me to do that to you?" His tone was hollow, almost sad, which was more frightening to Allison than his earlier shouting. "I want to understand. I mean sure, you told me everything, but I just… I just don't get it. I want… need to know what you went through. Why you did what you did." Allison's voice was quiet, yet unwavering. Grasping Scott's hands in her own, she stared imploringly at his face, waiting for a reaction. "Fine." Allison's jaw dropped and she stared in awe at Scott. "What?" Scott lifted his head and looked at her with a blank stare. "I said fine. If that's what you feel you need, I'll do it. But let me make one thing clear. I don't want to do this. At all."

Shocked by Scott's agreement, Allison nodded her head in understanding. Standing on her toes, Allison leaned forward and tenderly kissed Scott. Pulling away, she whispered, "Do it." Scott swallowed and nodded his head in reluctant agreement. Pulling his hand away from her back, Scott allowed his wolf claws to emerge. "Ready?" He asked Allison, hoping that she would change her mind and back away. Without hesitation Allison nodded. "Yeah I'm ready." Pulling her hair away from her neck, Allison gave Scott room to do what was necessary. Clenching her eyes, Allison held her breath, waiting for the sharp pain in her neck. Instead, she felt a tender kiss. Smiling at how Scott could make her feel, Allison groaned as she realized her boyfriend was stalling in the cruelest of ways. "Scott! Come on!" Suddenly Allison felt Scott's nail sink into the flesh of her neck. Her eyes flew open and she gasped. Feeling lightheaded, Allison collapsed into Scott's arms as he led her to her bed.

"Allison, hey, are you alright? Allison focus, look at me. Are you alright?" Scott's voice was laced with panic. Nodding her head meekly to assuage Scott's worry, Allison found herself unable to keep her eyes open. Finding herself drifting off to sleep, Allison felt Scott's strong arms wrap around her, always keeping her safe. Finally asleep, Allison was met with a slew of image and memories, none of which belonged to her.

_Scott racing through the woods, running from something. A huge animal attacking him, biting him._

_An image of herself, standing outside on the first day of school. Scott could hear her. Allison walking in the room, Scott offering her his pen._

_Scott ditching Allison at the party, leaving to find safety in his room. Pain. It was a full moon and he finally realized what he was._

_ Derek telling Scott that the only way to keep Allison safe was by avoiding her._

_Scott being beat up at school, Allison's voice being the only thing that could calm him enough to remain human._

_The school, the gym, night. Peter Hale in his wolf form approaching a terrified Scott. Scott throwing the Molotov cocktail at the wolf. Nothing happening. Scott thrown across the gym, forced to turn by the howl of his Alpha wolf._

_Scott preparing to kill his friends, who were locked behind the door of the classroom. Allison's voice. Memories of Allison. Scott regained control._

_Scott sitting in the cafeteria, listening to Jackson taunting him about his new relationship with Allison. Scott's anger resulting in the loud snap of the lunch tray._

_Scott peering through Allison's open window, keeping an eye on her as she slept. Protecting her from any predators that lurked around at night._

_Scott racing through the woods, gasping for breath. Clutching his abdomen in pain. Collapsing in the forest, blood pouring out of his wound. Enough breath for one word: Allison._

Tears streaming down her face, Allison woke up in a cold sweat. Feeling slightly nauseous, with an unbearable headache, Allison glanced around her bedroom. Looking out of the window, Allison saw that it was pitch black out, the only light coming from a nearby streetlamp. Peering at the clock on her bedside table, Allison saw that it read 2:30. She had been sleeping for almost ten hours. Slightly disappointed by the missing presence of Scott, Allison groaned in pain and tenderly touched the gash on the back of her neck. Pulling her hand away, she was relieved to see that her recent wound had stopped bleeding. Pulling her blanket tighter around her body, Allison noticed that the window of her bedroom was open. Walking over to close it, she remembered one of Scott's memories and peered out at the roof adjacent to her bedroom. Lying on his back, looking exhausted, was Scott. Allison smiled to herself. As long as Scott was around, she would never have to worry about anything, because he would always be there to protect her.

_End Flashback_

Through the eyes of Allison, that day with Scott had been the most important of their relationship. He had let her in completely, completely willing to aid her in understanding the chaos that had occurred since their first meeting. The comfort that Allison had felt as she gazed at Scott's solitary figure, guarding her, was unlike any feeling she had ever experienced before. And now, the warmth and comfort felt that day had been replaced with ice and dread.

Frozen in place, gazing down from the stairs at Scott's lifeless body, Allison's mind was completely blank. Unable to fully process what she was looking at, Allison remained completely still, silent tears streaming down her face. The shock at seeing her boyfriend motionless and bloodied at the foot of her stairs caused all rational though to leave Allison's mind.

Chris Argent gently lowered his daughter into a sitting position on the stairwell, hoping that her frozen stupor would last long enough for him to check on Scott without being hindered by the emotions of his distraught daughter. After ensuring that Allison would stay put, Chris rushed to Scott and quickly began shedding him of the bloodied clothing. Not wanting to frighten his catatonic daughter, Chris turned away from Allison. Chris Argent had killed numerous werewolves, seen numerous werewolf hunters killed, and had dealt with more bloodshed than he cared to. None of his prior experience with death prepared him for the sickening feeling that he had while tending to Scott McCall. He was just a boy, an innocent boy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Chris realized that Scott's age wasn't what made his mangled body so difficult to see. The fear and dread that Chris was feeling was caused by the fact that, somehow, he had managed to care for the young man who would do anything to protect his daughter.

With Scott's shirt removed, Chris was able to see the full extent of his injuries. While blood covered most of his torso, most of Scott's injuries were those that should have healed by now. Confused by Scott's inability to heal, Chris began to search for anything that may explain the constant bleeding. Finally, the bullet hole was spotted. Gently turning Scott over, Chris searched for the bullet's exit wound. "Dammit!" Chris wiped his head as he realized what had happened to Scott, and why the werewolf was unable to heal.

Her father's shout, laced with fear and anger, was all it took for Allison to rush to Scott's side. Grasping Scott's hand in her own, Allison turned pleadingly to her father. "What? What is it?" Allison's tears had always been a weakness for Chris. He was her father after all, willing to do anything, sacrifice anything, to prevent Allison's pain. But now, all he could do was prepare himself to cause his daughter more pain than what she was currently feeling. "Scott was shot. With a wolfs-bane bullet. That's why he isn't healing. Allison… Allison we need to take it out." The meaning behind her father's words was not lost on Allison. "What? That's going to hurt him even more! Dad he could die!" Nodding his head, Chris gazed at his daughter with a determined expression. "You're right. Scout could die. But not if we can get the bullet out in time. Sweetheart, it's the only way. If you want Scott to live, you'll get me a knife, tweezers, and a lighter. Now."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Wow, I am suuuper sorry for how delayed this is. Freshman year at college was far more stressful than I anticipated and I literally had zero time to work on this. Not to mention I'm just writing as I go along and didn't really know where this story was going. For anyone who has been patient enough to stick with me, thank you! Again, I'm sorry for the wait.**_

Seeing her aunt get her throat slashed by a vengeful werewolf had been one of the most traumatic moments in Allison's life. The overwhelming feeling of fear and panic was something that Allison prayed she would never have to experience again. Watching the life drain from her aunt's eyes was more traumatic than anything else caused by the late Peter Hale. Nightmares had plagued Allison for weeks following that night, always ending with the dull, lifeless eyes of her aunt. And now… now she was facing the possibility of seeing the same thing happen to Scott.

Hearing her father's demand was shocking to Allison. He was panicked and afraid, two emotions that he rarely allowed her to see from him. Despite his proclaimed dislike of Scott McCall, and his distaste of all things werewolf, Chris's voice betrayed him. Allison had always felt that deep down Chris Argent had an affinity towards Scott, and now, hearing his voice laced with worry and fear, she knew that her suspicions were correct.

Her reaction is quicker and more efficient than she would normally expect. The trip to the kitchen barely registers with her. All she can think of is the amount of blood covering Scott's mangled body. Tremors wrack her body and the realization of what is happening hits her with full force. Scott is here. Scott is here and he's dying. Steadying herself, Allison grips the counter as she heaves into the kitchen sink. The acidic taste in her mouth pales in comparison to the slow twisting in her gut. She's a wreck and she knows it, tears streaming down her face, the taste of vomit in her mouth. Though, she justifies, seeing her boyfriend losing blood faster than imaginable is an acceptable excuse for her terrible appearance.

Gaining control of herself, she spins around in search of the supplies her father requested. She pauses briefly at the array of knives, unsure of which would be best for the task at hand. Shaking her head, Allison quickly snatches the nearest one, realizing that there is no optimal knife for a situation in which her father cuts open her boyfriend. She sprints back to the hallway and notices her father's attempt at moving Scott further into the family home. The trail of blood left from Scott's body being dragged across the floor leaves Allison lightheaded and queasy. Her father is panicking as he tries his best to stem the blood flow on one of Scott's many wounds. The concern she sees on her father's face gives Allison a millisecond of warmth.

The warmth doesn't last.

A gurgled gasp comes from Scott as his eyes fly open. Rather than seeing the deep, chocolate brown eyes that usually light up his face, Allison is met with a strange sight. Scott's eyes were… flickering. Flickering between a deep brown and light gold. This was nothing new for Allison, who had seen Scott on the edge numerous times. What struck her however, were the bursts of red that appeared sporadically within the sea of molten chocolate and gold. Aware of the unconscious clenching of her father's fist, Allison realizes that she wasn't the only Argent to notice the flash of crimson in the young wolf's eyes.

"Dad…" Allison knew that her desperation was palpable. "Please… we need … I need him to be okay…please!" Chris's backwards glance did little to assuage her increasing worries. Menacing blue eyes meeting alarmed brown, and Allison once again finds herself at an impasse with her father. It was Scott's wracking cough that broke the Argent stare down. Allison's eyes flicker to her boyfriend and she watches him cough up a sickening amount of blood.

She doesn't remember moving but somehow Allison has managed to cradle Scott's head in her lap while clutching desperately at his fallen hand. His grip tightens around her hand, and she has the grave feeling that he is holding on for dear life. She's more than willing to be his tether.

_Flashback_

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon, and a rare opportunity for Allison and Scott to be in the same vicinity without worrying about prying eyes. Scott's mom was at the hospital and Allison's parents believed her to be spending girl time with Lydia. The excuse was flimsy, she knew, but her parents maintained the delusion that the Argent household was one of honesty and openness.

They're lounging in the McCall kitchen after a day filled with movies. Though Allison couldn't recall which DVD's they had seen… she and Scott had been otherwise occupied on the large sofa. He's standing in front of the open fridge now and she can't help but admire the view. "Apple or orange?" Scott's question interrupts her musings and a faint blush spreads across her cheeks. "Hmm?" He laughs at her answer and tilts his head quizzically as if listening for something. His eyebrows quirk and a bemused grin spreads across his lopsided face. It takes her a fraction of a second to realize that he can hear the erratic thumping of her heart. He can literally hear the effect he has on her. Stupid werewolf hearing.

"I asked what you wanted, but I think I have my answer." Scott makes a show of flexing his muscles and striking ridiculous poses. She rolls her eyes at his antics but is fully aware that a smile of her own is blossoming across her face. "Apple." He nods seriously as he puts the orange back into the fridge, but Allison has the suspicion that he's deliberately leaning over for a longer period of time than what is necessary. The cheeky grin he sports as he closes the door confirms her suspicions. He grabs a cutting board and knife and prepares to slice the chosen fruit.

"What are you doing?" She sounds genuinely confused when she asks the question. Scott turns around surprised, knife raised, and looks just as confused. "What do you mean? I'm cutting the apple for you." She shakes her head, "Yes I can see that. Why are you cutting my apple?" She didn't think he could look more confused but, as was the case for most things, Scott managed to surprise her. His eyebrows knitted together and he glanced between her and the fruit. "Because you like your apple cut into slices. You used to use the pieces to make your smile bigger and pretend you were the Cheshire cat because Alice and Wonderland was your favorite movie when you were younger. If you'd rather just eat it as is that's fine I just figured… Allison?" Her mouth was agape and she stared at him astonished. "How did you know that?" Her heart is beating rapidly again and Scott looks at her like she's crazy, "You mentioned it once at lunch." She had, she remembers vaguely. The lunch table had made fun of Stiles for his preference for cut apples and she had recounted the story of her childhood in the hopes of making him feel less embarrassed. She remembers the chatter of the lunchroom was raucous enough that she had to lean across the table for Stiles to hear her. She shakes her head in an attempt to pull herself out of her reverie. "I can't believe you remember that. I didn't even think you were listening." He shrugs as he turns his back to her to continue his ministrations. "I always listen to you Allison. What you have to say is important to me. No matter what, you always manage to calm me down." Her mouth drops again, though this time it goes unnoticed by Scott. She finds that she is once again thrown by the sincerity and openness displayed by her boyfriend. She is once again gazing at him, this time with an entirely new appreciation. She walks up behind him and wraps her arms around him. "I love you." His smile is softer when he turns around and holds an apple slice up to her lips. "Good thing because I love you too." She doesn't think apples have ever tasted so sweet.

_End Flashback_

She looks up as Chris is busy removing the torn clothes from Scott's body. "Shit!" The profanity leaves her father's mouth and she understands why. Now only in his boxers, all of Scott's wounds are visible. Allison shudders and muffles a sob as she takes in the extent of his injuries. Bullet holes are surrounded by enormous bruises. There are various symmetrical marks that were undoubtedly left by a slew of sharp blades. Gashes, seemingly caused by whips, are barely visible beneath the blood. She subconsciously realizes that each wound on her boyfriend's torso was meticulously caused by someone. _Because he was tortured._ The thought pops into her head and she turns her head as she once again dry heaves. Tortured. The sweet, unassuming, boy in front of her was tortured. Her breath comes out in gasps, her throat is sore, but the bone crushing grip on her hand quickly brings her attention back to Scott.

Looking down at him, Allison can see that he is panicking. He is struggling for breath and is clawing at his gaping wounds. "Al…Allison… I c..can't…" She understands what he is trying to say and searches his abdomen for the source of the problem. She sees the broken ribs and immediately realizes what is causing his breathing troubles. She knows what she has to do and almost collapses at the thought. She searches around her and grabs Scott's tattered shirt. "Scott," she tries not to let the fear seep into her voice, "Scott I'm going to have to try and set your ribs." His eyes widen and the ragged gasps increase as he understands what she is telling him. "I know, I know. I have to though. I'm going to put this shirt in your mouth. Just… just bite down when it hurts okay. Can you do that for me?" She tries to be soothing but doesn't think that anything could prepare Scott for the pain he's about to experience. She watches as his eyes squeeze shut and he nods minutely. The balled shirt is in his mouth and Allison almost loses it when she sees the tears stream down Scott's face. She glances at her father, hopeless and frightened, and silently pleads with him. For what she isn't sure.

"Allison, we still need to remove the bullet," her father is cautious as he speaks to her slowly and deliberately. "I think it would be for the best if we take care of it at the same time. You get his ribs, I'll get the bullet." She processes what he is telling her and quickly decides that he's right, it will be for the best. "Right. Right of course." Her father grasps the knife and she positions herself over Scott, ready to snap his bones into their proper places. She locks eyes with her boyfriend and brushes his hair off of his sweaty forehead. "On three?" She hears her father's question and her eyes snap to Scott's imploringly. He nods slowly and she replies. "On three." Deep breaths. _1…_Scotts eyes close tightly. _2…_ She grips his hand in her own. _3…_

The knife comes down.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hey, I just wanted to quickly say a big thank you to anyone who has Read/Reviewed/Favorited etc. It means a lot. As slow as I am with updates, I'd be a lot slower if it weren't for the email reminders and the people who have been kind enough to put up with me. Also, I realize it seems that not much is happening but I promise that I'm going to explain everything. All mistakes are my own. Thanks again for sticking with me!**_

The bullet was deeper than he'd expected and the combination of Scott's muffled screams and his daughter's sobs wasn't making it any easier for Chris to extract it. As a man who generally works well under pressure, Chris finds himself fumbling with the tweezers, seemingly unable to grip the wolfs-bane bullet that was slowly killing Scott. He glances up at his daughter, far too young and innocent to once again be covered in the blood of someone she loves. She is a wreck, and yet, he is momentarily stunned by her strength. He thinks that in this single moment, with her tears and Scott's blood mixing together, his daughter has never been so strong. She would no doubt scoff if he were to voice his thoughts. Scoff and try to convince him that she had never been so weak, the cliché teenage girl who became a blubbering mess at the sight of blood. And while Chris realizes that it's true, she is definitely breaking down, he expects that most girls in Allison's situation would do much more than cry. She's stronger than most. Because blubbering mess or not, his seventeen year old daughter had just yanked ribs out of her werewolf boyfriend's lungs. To Chris Argent that's about as far from weak as it gets.

He pauses in his ministrations, giving both himself and the frightened teens a brief moment of respite. He eyes his daughter once more. She is gripping Scott's hand in her own and murmuring words so softly that Chris wonders if she's speaking at all. The words that leave her lips aren't audible to human ears, though looking at Scott, Chris surmises that they aren't meant for human ears at all. The young werewolf's gaze never wavers from Allison's lips as he desperately strains against whatever demons are plaguing him. Whatever she is saying must be working because the screams have momentarily softened.

The tenderness between the teens is overwhelming to Chris and he feels as though he is intruding on something deeply personal. Using the back of his hand to wipe his brow, Chris realizes something that will end the short-lived moment of peace. _The cut isn't deep enough. _He furtively glances at his daughter again, hoping that she has not come to the same conclusion. So engrossed in soothing Scott, she fails to notice the panic on her father's face. He thinks this is probably for the best. Better to take action without warning. He picks up the knife and digs once more into Scott's bloodied torso. The reaction is immediate as Scott begins to writhe around, straining against the tight grasp that Allison has on him. She begins speaking louder, in panicked tones, doing everything in her power in an attempt to calm the boy down.

While her words are now discernable, Chris doesn't have time to process what his daughter is saying, he redoubles his effort to put an end to their collective misery. Using one hand to clamp the wound open, Chris becomes desperate in his search for the tiny bullet that has caused so much damage. The tweezers are useless as he digs around the open wound. So focused on finding the offending object, it takes a moment for him to realize that the constant background noise has changed. The sobs of his daughter have increased exponentially, but there are no longer muffled screams.

_Flashback_

"Where do you think you're going?" Chris Argent doesn't even have to look up to know that his daughter is attempting to leave the family home unnoticed. He hears the sigh as he turns around, motioning with his finger for Allison to come to him. She wears a look of exasperation and annoyance as she makes the short walk towards him. "Do I need to repeat the question?" He knows he doesn't. Knows that she heard him clearly the first time. He also knows that she needs the extra few seconds to come up with a good excuse. He's hoping that it'll be a little less generic than the usual ones. His silent hopes clearly fall on deaf ears.

"I'm studying with Lydia at the library." She is blunt and direct and he has to admit that she's getting better at lying. There was no hesitation in her delivery, and yet it wasn't quick enough to seem rehearsed. She wasn't fidgeting or playing with her hair, and she maintained an appropriate amount of eye contact. If she were talking to anyone else, he's sure they'd believe her in a second. But she wasn't talking to anyone else. Normally he'd smile and send her on her way, but today Chris Argent wants to see how far his daughter is willing to go to get what she wants. "It's Sunday. I didn't think the library was open on Sundays?" He's got her and he knows it. She'll falter across her words and retract or adjust her previous statement. He's surprised when her only reaction is a sigh and an eye-roll.

"The public library is closed but finals are coming up so the school library is open 10 to 2 on the weekends." Her answer is bored and patient, as if she is explaining something ridiculous to a small child. He's not sure if he should be proud or insulted by her quick wit. "You can check the school's website if you're really that interested in my study habits." The annoyance is back in full force as Allison furtively glances at the door. He knows that she wouldn't give him the option to catch her in a lie if she wasn't fully confident in her research. She's looking plaintively at him as she readjusts the strap on her schoolbag. "Dad? Is there something else you need to question because Lydia is waiting for me?" She gestures with her hand to the door and raises her eyebrows in question.

He knows she's not going to the library, knows she won't be studying with Lydia. But Chris Argent has always followed a code, and anyone who can execute a lie as perfectly as the one concocted by his daughter is entitled to a few hours with her "secret" boyfriend. "Sure go on. Have fun with Lydia." She may have gotten better at lying, but no one is better than him. His warm smile convinces her that she's in the clear, leaving him none the wiser, and she prances out the door with a grin far too large to be associated with the prospect of studying. He stands in the window and watches her speed away. Adept with a bow and now able to lie with the best of them, he knows she'll make an excellent hunter. He's proud of her, he really is. And he's happy that she's growing up and on her way to becoming a true Argent. But the dull ache in his chest reminds him that, as good of a liar as he is, he still can't quite successfully lie to himself.

_End Flashback_

He thought he'd seen the worst of it minutes ago, thought that things would get better. He'd get the bullet out, Scott would be okay, and Allison would compose herself. Glancing at his daughter, he has never seen her so distraught. He had yet to retrieve the bullet, Scott was the opposite of okay and Allison… he thinks she's starting to hyperventilate. Her breaths are coming in strangled gasps and she is looming over Scott with a look of pure fear and heartache. "He's not breathing. Dad, he's not breathing!" Her eyes flicker between Scott and himself. He's not sure what she sees when she looks at him but it's obviously not reassuring or helpful. Her eyes widen as the tears stream out. She turns away from him and he feels as though he's failed her. "Scott… Scott! Please, Scott wake up. Wake up Scott!" She's gently shaking the boy as she's choking on her own sobs.

He is surprised to feel the familiar sting of tears in his own eyes. He's watching his daughter fall apart in front of him as the most important thing in her life is ripped from her. While this would pull at the heartstrings of any father, Chris doesn't even attempt to convince himself that his daughter's heartbreak is the sole reason for the tears that are prickling his eyes. If he's completely honest, he doesn't want the boy to die. Scott was a kid who had done nothing but care for Allison and ensure her safety. And although most of the time Scott was protecting Allison from himself, he went above and beyond what most boys his age would do. And though he'd prefer it if his daughter were in love with someone a little less supernatural, Chris had long since come to terms with the fact that Scott McCall would be in his life for most of the foreseeable future. And though he'd never admit it, Chris was kind of happy about it. He was fond of the boy, fond enough to turn a blind eye to his secret meetings with Allison. Which made watching him die that much harder.

He feels completely helpless as he continues to watch Allison beg and plead with an unresponsive Scott. Her gentle shakes have increased in force and have now been combined with the sporadic slap to the face. She's doing everything short of inflicting additional harm to the boy. He thinks that her stubborn determination is the only thing keeping her from collapsing in emotional anguish. His hands reach towards his face and he viciously rubs the salty tears away, unwilling to witness anything else. He's exhausted and lost as he focuses on her, hoping for her to grasp reality and acknowledge what has happened. Instead, he sees the exact moment where she snaps. She turns to him, and for a moment all he sees are the similarities between his daughter and his late sister. The tears are still present but her eyes are so full of fury and hatred that he flinches away from her stare.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" The question is asked with a viciousness that Chris would never associate with his daughter. "Allison…" The breaking of his voice is stunning to both of the Argents. It confirms many things, but he knows that all it means to Allison is that he's given up. She shakes her head vehemently at him as a fresh wave of tears run down her face. "No. No!" She moves towards him, grasping at his collar with a force he didn't think she possessed. "Scott McCall is not dead. He's a fighter. He fought for me, and now I'm going to fight for him." She looks at the tweezers, still protruding from the entry wound, and rips them from Scott's body. Using her thumb and forefinger as replacements for the discarded tweezers, Allison reaches into the wound and finishes what Chris had started. A grimace on her face, Allison deftly maneuvers her fingers in the gaping hole, frowning as she searches for the bullet.

Her hand emerges in a fist, a fresh coat of blood covering the surface. As her fist slowly unfurls, Chris is astonished to see the blood-soaked bullet. Mouth agape, his eyes meet Allison's. She thrusts the bullet towards him in disgust. "Get this out of here." He takes the object in his hands and doesn't hesitate to throw it across the house. Allison's surprise at his reaction is brief and she turns her attention back to Scott, still not breathing. "It's not working." Her voice is soft and confused, laced with a gut-wrenching layer of sadness. She turns to him and he can see that the anger is gone, replaced with nothing but anguish and despair. "Why isn't it working?" The whisper is barely audible. "Dad? Why…why isn't….why isn't it working?"

He's ready for it when she finally breaks. She collapses in his arms and sobs harder than she had all night. He didn't think that was possible until now. He's stroking her hair and he feels the tremors wrack her body. The tears seep through his shirt, and despite their warmth they leave him with an icy feeling. _Why wasn't he healing? _The question runs through his mind as he attempts to go against nature and remember how to heal a werewolf. _The bullet is out, so why isn't he healing? _The realization is so sudden that he hastily pushes his daughter out of his arms. He knows she's saying something but he doesn't hear anything because he remembers. _He remembers!_

He moves without thinking and his gun is in his hand before he knows it. His fingers move routinely as he ejects the cartridge and removes a single bullet. He moves swiftly to Scott's side and pours the gunpowder onto the linoleum floor. He fumbles with the lighter, unable to get a spark. He doesn't struggle long though, the lighter is quickly snatched from his now cognizant daughter. With a nimble flick of her thumb, the flame bursts from the device. He pauses and gives her a questioning look. The minute smirk and shrug of her shoulders lets him know that he doesn't want to know how she is so adept with lighters. He motions to the powder and she quickly sets it ablaze.

It stops smoking and Chris hastily scoops the ash into his hand, pausing before administering it to the wound. He shoots Allison a questioning look, asking for permission. "If it can help. Do it." She's pleading with him and he doesn't hesitate to follow her command. He presses the embers into the gash and holds his breath. He can only hear two things now, the erratic thumping of his heart and the soft begging of his daughter. "Please work. Please, please work." He's silently pleading the same. _Please work._


	7. Chapter 7

_**Okeydoke, here's the next chapter! It seems that I'm doing a chapter a week and I think I'll probably stick to that routine for awhile. I'm leaving next week for Europe and won't be back until July 10**__**th**__** so I probably won't update during that time. I know it's a bummer and I just wanted to thank everyone who has been so incredibly patient with me. Like I said I won't update during that time but I'll do plenty of writing so hopefully I won't have to write as I post. I think I'll probably be able to get one more chapter before I leave. Big thanks to everyone who has reviewed or read, it really means a lot and I love hearing what you think.**_

_Please work._ It becomes her own personal mantra, though she swears she can see her father's lips silently mouthing the same thing. As the seconds tick by her pleas grow more and more quiet, until her lips are just barely moving. While she doesn't know the specifics of the werewolf healing process, she's certain that it shouldn't be taking this long. The bullet wound sits there completely unchanging, just as bloody and open as it had when the bullet was still imbedded within it. She glances at where the bullet landed across the house and can't help but feel that the inanimate object is taunting her. It's lying innocently on the floor, mirroring the body on which it inflicted so much damage. She feels another spark of rage and tears her eyes away from the piece of metal.

The wound acts as a magnet for her and her eyes are once again trained on it. She stares at the bullet hole as if her focus alone will repair the damage. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed that her unblinking stare doesn't do a thing. She methodically takes note of every injury that litters Scott's body, every lash mark, knife wound, and broken bone is accounted for. It's sickening and she doesn't want to see the extent of the damage, but she's banking on the possibility of the lesser injuries healing first. Her father seems to be thinking the same thing because his eyes routinely scan Scott's body, searching for any sign of progress.

The situation is so preposterous and nonsensical that Allison can't help but wonder if it's all a dream. Because no reality should have her covered in blood with her father crying over the body of a werewolf. She's been plagued by nightmares before and has woken up in more cold sweats than she'd care to admit. And every time, the feeling of terror she felt in her dream remained with her long after she woke. The ridiculous psychobabble that most people spew is that simply opening your eyes will rid you of whatever demons haunt. Allison knows that's a load of bull though, because some nightmares can come true.

She knows this isn't a dream. Because whatever terror she felt during those sleepless nights doesn't even come close to what she's feeling now. She takes a moment to assess herself, a fraction of a second really, and takes note of every emotion coursing through her. She's terrified yes, but she's also greeted with an indescribable feeling of pain and desolation. Because, she realizes, in a world without Scott she'd be nothing more than an empty shell, broken and devoid of any emotion other than grief. She's never felt so lost and she realizes that, more than anything, in this moment she feels helpless. She's done everything she can, and she's beginning to think that it wasn't enough.

But the small voice in the back of her head disagrees. _She didn't do everything. She could have stopped them._

_Flashback_

Stiles is chattering away in the passenger seat and Allison is beginning to wonder if his mind ever shuts down, if even for a second. Based on his incessant fidgeting, she bets that the answer is no. He's rambling on about something, and while she tries her best to listen, Allison finds herself tuning out a majority of what he's saying. Knowing Stiles, whatever topic he'd begun with had already morphed into a lengthy tangent concerning something entirely different.

The random spurts of information mixed with energetic hand gestures tended to keep most people away from the boy. Evidently people have a very low tolerance when it comes to Stiles, with the most tolerant tapping out after a few minutes. And while his behavior is sometimes a little irritating, and almost always inappropriate, Allison doesn't really mind. She knows that Stiles and Scott are a package deal, and is secretly grateful for it. The enigma that is Stiles Stilinski is someone who Allison has grown to care about more than most people in her life. Being an only child, she never really understood what it felt like to have someone other than her parents be unconditionally supportive. He's become the brother that she never wanted, but is grateful to have. It was a comfort having Stiles around, because no matter how un-relatable she thinks her life is becoming, he always seems to understand what she's going through. And while Stiles doesn't live in a house full of werewolf hunters, nor is he secretly dating said supernatural creature, he's as immersed in the situation as she is. He's one of the few constants in her life and her appreciation for him grows by the day.

"Allison…. Allison? ALLISON STOP THE CAR!" The shouting breaks her from her daze and she slams her foot down on the break. Her seatbelt is constraining her but it doesn't stop her head from jerking forward and slamming into the steering wheel. "Damn it Stiles! What the hell." She can already feel the lump forming on her forehead and she's certain that the next few minutes will bring a stinging migraine. One glance into the mirror and she can see the glaringly obvious red swelling on her forehead. Wincing as she prods the spot that took the most impact, she glances at Stiles whose eyes are wide and panicked. "Oh my gosh Allison, I'm so sorry! It's just I was talking and I asked you a question and you didn't respond and then I saw that the grocery store was having a sale on candy and I wanted some, and then I got a little overexcited and now we're here and Scott's gonna kill me for almost killing you and- can you stop looking at me like that cause you're really starting to freak me out." Her mouth is open and she has a feeling that her eyes are bugging out. One breath. He managed to get all that out in _one_ _breath_! She'd probably be impressed if she weren't so exasperated.

"You're telling me that I'm going to have a killer migraine and a minor concussion because you have an uncontrollable sweet tooth?" She speaks slowly and deliberately, making sure that Stiles hears how stupefied she is by his behavior. It's a rhetorical question but that doesn't stop Stiles from answering. "Umm… yes...?" He adds a quirky smile to his shrug, as if the answer was obvious, and does a weird little wave with his hand, motioning her to proceed. Her mouth is agape when her eyes return to the road and she puts her foot on the gas. "Hey Allison?" She knows where this is going and fights the urge to roll her eyes. "Hmm?" He's looking out the window at something in the distance when he points and mumbles. "Grocery store is the next right." She wonders how she always manages to be stuck Stiles when he's hungry.

She barely has the car in park before Stiles is bolting out the door and running into the store, somehow managing to slow down long enough to snatch a cart along the way. Allison concentrates on deliberately presenting herself as a functioning human being who has no relation to the teenage boy who was literally riding the cart through the store. She makes sure to meander through the aisles at a normal pace. After a few minutes the bright fluorescent lights begin to give her a headache so she heads towards aisle 8, first aid supplies. She can hear Stiles three aisles over, no doubt filling his cart with a bag of every type of candy the store sells. The Advil is easy enough for her to find but the dull throbbing in her head makes Allison think that a quicker solution is needed. She's scanning the aisle for ice packs when she sees them. They'd be pretty hard to miss.

While it's true that most occupants of Beacon Hills seem to have a penchant for black clothing, this group takes the love of the color to a whole new level. The men are all wearing entirely ebony ensembles. Black pants, black boots, black everything. Allison notes that while her leather jacket is a perfect accessory to her outfit, theirs are simply making a statement. _Dangerous. _They're walking in a group but it's clear to Allison what the pecking order is. The shifts of their bodies are entirely reliant on the movement of their leader. Though each individual has a hardened expression, Allison's eyes are immediately drawn to the man in front, whose eyes are cold and unwelcoming. She doesn't miss the predatory gleam either. Allison tries to think of a word adequate enough to describe the threatening vibe that he lets off but nothing seems to do her bone-chilling feeling justice.

They're moving with a purpose and Allison realizes to late that the purpose is her. Her heart is hammering in her chest when the newcomers stop in front of her, spreading out so that she is trapped between the aisle and the human wall. "Allison Argent?" She isn't surprised to see that her initial instinct was right, this man is clearly the leader. The eyes of his three goonies continuously flit between her and him. "Yes. Who's asking?" She's grateful that there is no tremor in her voice as she speaks. The man signals the thug closest to her and when he reaches into his jacket she instinctually steps away. Bad decision. The men smirk at her and she realizes that whatever power she had is now gone, she's already displayed a weakness.

The goon removes an envelope and hands it to her. Attempting to regain some form of dominance, Allison crosses her arms and quirks her eyebrows at the leader, refusing to convey the panic she's feeling. "What am I supposed to do with that?" His smirk is gone in an instant and his expression immediately becomes sinister. Snatching the envelope from his number two, the man grabs Allison's arm and forces the paper into her hand. His face is inches from her own and she can feel every one of his breaths hit her face. "Give this to your father. Tell him Andrew is here to help clean up his mess." He pushes her away from him and her back collides with the wall. He stares at her for a second before jerking his head and walking away, his men quickly following suit. It isn't until she sees them drive away through the store window that she releases the breath she didn't realize she was holding.

_End Flashback_

He hasn't been breathing for a few minutes now.

Allison still isn't wiling to give up though. Her hands ghost over Scott's body and she realizes that her actions are more for her own comfort than her boyfriend's. She needs to maintain some form of physical connection or she thinks she'll have a full-blown mental breakdown. As her hands roam his torso, she reasons that she's searching for a pulse. She ignores devastating feeling that tells her she won't find one. Her mind is repeating itself, doing everything to convince her. _You won't find a pulse because there's no pulse to find. _Her father must have come to the same conclusion because she watches as his body collapses, whether it's from grief or exhaustion she isn't sure, and barely audible whimper escapes him. He pushes himself away from Scott's body and doesn't stop until his back makes contact with the wall. She looks at her father, broken and devastated, and her mind finally informs her what she'd spent so long refusing to admit. _He's dead. Scott is dead. _The air leaves her lungs and in an instant she finds herself cradling Scott's body in her arms.

She knows she's crying again, but as she sticks her head into the crook of Scott's neck, she comes to the conclusion that she'll probably never stop. She'll spend the rest of her life crying. She moves to hold his head in her hands and is immediately struck by how young he looks. She sometimes forgets that he's only sixteen. He's experienced so many things, protected so many people, that she often thinks he's older than even herself. He's always seemed like a man, but lying here, eyes closed and body relaxed, Scott finally looks like a boy. It's when she sees him for the teenager he is that the next stage of grief hits her

As she is swept with another overwhelming feeling of anger, Allison realizes that she is following the 7 Stages of Grief to a tee. Shock? Check. Denial? Check. Pain and Guilt? Check. And now the rage hits. Scott McCall, who had done nothing but help the people around him, was dead for no good reason. Allison viciously wipes the tears off of her face and feels her hands clench into fists. She has the overwhelming desire to hit something, so she does. It's an out of body experience for her. She sees her fists flying, repeatedly making contact with Scott's chest, but doesn't fully comprehend what she's doing. She hears a choked gasp and assumes it's her own.

It isn't until Scott bolts up and grabs her hand in an iron grip that her mind begins to work again. She's only able to process one thing before her body shuts down and she blacks out. _Why are his eyes red?_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Phew, got this done just before I leave for Europe. I tried to get it out quickly to make up for the fact that I won't be updating in for the next two weeks so I apologize if it seems rushed. All mistakes are my own. Thank you again to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I can't even properly articulate how nice it is to hear what everyone thinks of the story. I hope this chapter will tide everyone over until my next update. Let me know what you think! Thanks again!**_

When Allison comes to, the first thing she notices is the sharp pain in her wrist. The throbbing is constant, and every few seconds a shooting pang streaks through her arm. She doesn't think it's broken but it's probably as close as it gets, and it definitely hurts. She tentatively tries to flex her wrist from her position on the ground, left cheek planted firmly on the cool tile, but flinches when her arm's protests become too strong.

Her eyes are still unfocused, her mind trying to process the what, when, and where of the situation. Based on what she can see from her position on the floor, she realizes that she can't have been out for very long. Her father is still pressed against the same wall, but now his gun is in his hand. Arm extended in a position Allison has seen numerous times, Chris Argent's gun is cocked and ready to fire at whatever is to the immediate left of her. It takes a millisecond for her to realize what is at the other end of the barrel.

She momentarily forgets her swelling wrist and sucks in a sharp breath when she pushes herself into a sitting position. She follows the direction of the gun and her heart stops short when she sees Scott hunched over, knees and hands planted firmly on the floor. She has no idea what's going on, no real understanding of the situation, but she is coherent enough to see that Scott is alive.

She smiles. It's brief, and it barely reaches her eyes, but she is grateful to know that she can smile at all, she didn't think she'd be able to anymore. An outsider probably wouldn't even call it a smile, merely a quirk of her lips, but she wants her external façade to have some semblance of control. She hopes to appear somewhat levelheaded. Internally she's grinning like and idiot. She knows that it's completely inappropriate considering her father is a finger-twitch away from putting a bullet in Scott's head. But her boyfriend, who she watched die minutes earlier, was breathing three feet in front of her.

Her eyes focus on him, and she feels herself subconsciously reach for him. "Don't!" Her father's tone is one she has grown accustomed to in the past few months, stern and commanding. She expects it. What she doesn't expect is the feral snarl that escapes Scott. "Get back." The demand is laced with a venom that she would never associate with the boy. Her hand retracts immediately as if physically burned by his animosity.

She studies him in astonishment. She can't see his face, his head is hanging limply between his arms, but she can hear his ragged breathing. His body is stained red, accentuating the tension that is rolling off of his shoulders. She can see every vein, every tense muscle, straining against his skin. His arms are stiff and she can see his hands clenched in fists. His wounds are healing, but she can see fresh blood dripping through his fingers. Peering closer, she realizes that it's his own claws that are creating the new gashes.

She finally understands the hostility in his voice. He's in his wolf form. He's trying to change back.

_Flashback_

They're strolling through the woods, which have quickly become their own personal sanctuary. Scott has a goofy grin on his face and he playfully swings their entwined hands between their bodies. She jokingly bumps into him and he's quick to stagger backwards, playing the helpless victim. Despite his alleged reflexes, he doesn't notice the rock behind him. He trips and lands less than gracefully on his back. The astonished look on his face as he sits up is enough to send Allison into a fit of giggles.

Scott suddenly becomes affronted and she tries desperately to quell her laughing but the leaves sticking out of his hair make it impossible. Her stomach is cramping up and she doubles over in laughter, no longer trying to appease Scott's wounded ego. She's gasping for breath when she suddenly feels a pressure on her ankles. A fraction of a second later she's on her back looking up at the sky. She's no longer laughing.

She shoves herself into a sitting position and sees her boyfriend wearing a smug expression. He's leaning backwards, hands placed behind him, and she uses her hunter skills to take note of every weakness he is displaying. Allison quickly becomes mischievous and, based on his slight look of panic, Scott's noticed. He raises his hands in truce but she is quick to use his unoccupied hands as an opportunity for a counter assault. She pounces and he topples backward, his shoulders hitting the forest floor with a satisfying thud.

His shock is evident but when the two teens make eye contact neither can keep a straight face. Their laughter is simultaneous and Allison can't help but marvel at how harmonious it sounds reverberating through the trees. He's still grinning like a maniac when he leans up to place a chaste kiss on her lips. She knows that she probably looks just as giddy.

She twists her body and lies down parallel to Scott, her head using his shoulder as a pillow. He wraps a protective arm around her waste and she revels in the feeling of complete and utter elation. Their hands find each other like magnets and she watches as he idly rubs circles along her wrist. She can't help but smile. His hand suddenly disappears from her own and she immediately misses the contact. She's about to question, complain about really, the lack of contact when she sees that he's pointing at something above their heads. "Look at that!" For a second she thinks that whatever Scott's wildly flailing his arms towards is something that requires the heightened eyesight of a werewolf. Allison squints, using her hand to block the sun, and finally sees the lone flower that's blossomed on the tree nearest them.

He bolts up, taking her with him, and lifts her by the waist above his head. He does it so effortlessly that she is momentarily stunned. Her hands are hanging limply at her sides and though she's laughing, she's not entirely sure why Scott decided to pick her up like a rag doll. "Can you reach it?" His question makes her look down at his cheerful face, showing no signs of strain from her weight, and she gives him a puzzled look. "What?" He somehow manages to lift her higher when he replies. "The flower! Can you reach it?" Allison is completely floored and thinks he's probably the only guy she's seen get excited over a flower. She chuckles to herself when she realizes the reason behind Scott's reenactment of 'Dirty Dancing' and reaches with her arm towards to blossom. She's a good four feet short of reaching it. Scott seems realize this because Allison suddenly finds herself falling into the cradle of Scott's arms.

Her arms immediately wrap around Scott's neck and she savors the sensation of being held by him. He has a look of irritation on his face and she uses her thumb to smooth out his brow. She has a questioning look on her face and Scott's facial features suddenly becomes determined. "What are you doing?" He gently places her on the ground and rolls his shoulders, as if preparing for a fight. His eyes close and when they reopen they're liquid gold. He takes a few steps back and meets her eyes with a look of intent. "I'm getting you that flower."

Allison watches in awe as he catapults himself towards the tree and effortlessly climbs. He jumps from limb to limb and is fifty feet up before she can even process what he said. He precariously walks along the branch and reaches the flower in a nanosecond. Allison watches as he gently plucks up the flower and waves to her from above in victory. Apparently he can't multitask though because as he waves down at her he loses his balance and plummets to the ground. She cringes when he hits the ground and gasps when she hears the unmistakable break of bone.

Allison is kneeling beside him in an instant. His face has lost all traces of its wolfish features and she realizes that the pain of the fall is probably responsible for Scott's human appearance. "Oh my god, Scott! What were you thinking! Are you alright?" She sounds like every worried girlfriend from the movies but can only focus on the stupidity of her boyfriend. She watches in abject horror as he pushes his arm into a more natural position with nothing but a grimace. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine." She sees that he's telling the truth because his arm looks normal again. Allison sighs in relief, allowing her heart to return to its normal pace. She shakes her head at Scott and smacks him in the head in frustration. "Don't ever do that again!" She doesn't know how her voice sounds angry and panicked at the same time, but it does. Scott seems to understand her emotions because he nods his head, stands up, and grasps her hand tugging her along to continue their original hike through the woods.

It isn't until she gets home that she notices the undamaged flower that Scott had surreptitiously placed in her coat pocket.

_End Flashback_

Allison watches in rapt attention as Scott's nails dig deeper into his flesh. She sees him shaking his head as if the physical movement will aid him in becoming human. "Scott?" It's barely a whisper but it's evident that Scott heard her. His body goes unnaturally still and he raises his head to meet her eyes. His own eyes are redder than the crimson blood that surrounds him. She is shocked and slightly petrified. Scott seems to pick up on her emotions because he scoots himself away from her with an anguished groan. Her body moves in tandem with his though and as he pulls himself away, she pushes herself closer. Because the fear that he can smell on her isn't fear for herself, it's fear for him.

She can here her father make a noise of warning, but she doesn't stop until her face is an inch away from Scott's. He's gulping in air and refuses to make eye contact, no doubt ashamed by the occasional growl that leaves his lips. "Scott? Scott hey, you're okay. Calm down." She grasps his chin in her hand and forces his head up. Red eyes meet brown and Allison makes sure she doesn't blink, refusing to break their stare. Her hands are on either side of his head and she can literally feel his body begin to relax. His body seems to sag and she watches in awe as his eyes transform from red to gold. She feels his hands reach for her waist and can tell that his claws have reverted back to being dull nails. She gives him what she hopes is a comforting smile and leans forward to place a kiss on his forehead, the only part of his body that isn't entirely covered in blood. When her eyes meet his she is relieved to see that they are back to being a deep chocolate brown. She breaks a little when she sees the look on his face.

His gaze is filled with an overwhelming amount of pain and regret. She understands why he'd be in pain, he did after all just rise from the dead, but she is slightly puzzled by the look of guilt. He gingerly grasps her wrist in his hand, lining up each forming bruise with one of his fingers. She realizes why he looks so regretful. "I'm sorry. Allison I'm so sorry." His words come out in choked sobs and she can't even believe that he would apologize for something so trivial after the literal torture he had experienced. She pulls him into a hug, stroking his hair and murmuring soothing words, as his tears cascade down her neck. She meets her father's gaze over Scott's head and he nods his head towards the stairs. She's quick to understand and pulls her head back from Scott's.

His eyes are red again, this time bloodshot from crying, and she wonders if she looks as exhausted as he does. She tugs at his hand and slowly pulls him to his feet. He stumbles slightly, still weak from his recent experiences, and she gladly supports his weight. She's grateful that he doesn't question her, he merely follows her lead and allows himself to be guided up the stairs into the Argent bathroom. Allison sits him on the closed toilet and quickly turns to start the shower. Her eyes constantly flit back to him though and she becomes increasingly worried.

His eyes are blank and he's just staring at the floor. His face is expressionless and she thinks back to all of the stories she's read about survivors of torture. Most were never really the same afterwards, could never really recover. She has a sinking feeling that Scott is another statistic for these common cases. When the water is warm enough Allison grasps Scott's arm and pulls him into the shower. The spray of the water hits them both and she notes that Scott's stare is just as blank as it was before. She grabs a bar of soap and begins to vigorously remove all traces of blood from Scott's body. She pushes her sleeves out of the way and when they become too difficult to deal with she pulls her shirt off altogether, exposing her camisole to the harsh sprays of the water.

She is completely focused on her task and once she's efficiently scrubbed Scott's torso, she moves onto his face. She jumps in surprise when she sees the small smile adorning his face. She stills and briefly thinks that the water dripping down her face is distorting her view. She swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand and returns her gaze to Scott's mouth. The minute smile was still there. She locks eyes with him and, like always, he notices her confusion immediately. The smile increases in size and he gives her a slight shrug. "It's just… It's not exactly how I imagined showering with you." Her mouth drops open and the soap slips from her hand. When her mind informs her that, yes, he did just say that, she lets out a choked laugh.

She's glad that the water of the showerhead is pounding down on her because, for what she thinks must be the hundredth time that night, she begins to sob. She feels herself fall to the floor and immediately after her knees hit the ground she feels Scott envelope her in his arms. She clutches at him desperately and buries her face into the crook of his neck. "I thought… I thought you were dead." Her words are muffled against his skin but he tightens his arms around her and presses a kiss to the side of her head.

She realizes that she'll probably never be able to understand whatever it was that Scott had gone through. All she knows is that she never wants him to feel what she had felt since he'd collapsed across her threshold. Because she didn't just _think _he died, he did. And Allison was pretty sure that a part of her died with him. She never wants to feel like that again, and she sure as hell doesn't want Scott to feel like that either.

She's not long sure how long they sit there but she's suddenly aware that the water is freezing and her lips are chattering from the cold. She reaches up and turns off the cold spray, never allowing herself to lose contact with Scott. The two step out of the shower and Scott wraps a towel around her shivering frame. She hates how, after _everything_, she's the vulnerable wreck. She hates how Scott is here comforting and protecting _her. _She hates how much she actually loves it.

They exit the bathroom, hands entwined, and Allison notices that Chris has left a pile of sweats for them to change into. They tug on the clothes and Allison walks towards the door, already prepared for the discussion she knows her father has prepared. Just before she reaches the door she feels a tug on her hand and she stumbles towards Scott. He catches her effortlessly and pulls her into a searing kiss. They break apart and she knows she's crying _again_. There is a somber smile on Scott's face and he gently uses his thumb to brush the tear from her face. She leans up to catch his lips again and when they pull away she's happy to see that Scott is slightly less somber.

They walk down the stairs hand in hand and make their way to the dining room where Allison knows her father is waiting. He's already sitting down, gun lying ominously on the table, and the two seats across from him have already been pulled out for them. The teens take their places and Allison watches Scott's face when Chris finally speaks. "Scott, I think it's time you told us what happened to you, and why you're suddenly an alpha."


	9. Chapter 9

_**I apologize PROFUSELY for the delay. Life kind of got in the way and I just got momentarily sidetracked from the story. For anyone who has stuck with me and this story, a million thank you are being sent your way. I just want to let everyone know that, if ever there is a gap between updates, it doesn't mean I've abandoned the story. It means a lot to me that people have taken the time to read this and I don't want to waste your time writing a story just to leave it with no definitive ending. So bear with me, I'm not giving up on this sucker, I'm just trying to plan/write something that will keep you interested! Thank you AGAIN for all of the reads/reviews/favorite etc. I am eternally appreciative to everyone. Again, all mistakes are mine and I don't own Teen Wolf. Read/Review and enjoy!**_

The second the word leaves his mouth Scott becomes rigid. Chris watches as the boy's face slips into a stoic mask, completely devoid of any emotion. His daughter's reaction is the complete opposite of her boyfriend's. She sucks in a breath and her eyes immediately flit over every inch of Scott's face. She takes a second to shoot Chris a glare before her gaze returns to Scott's unchanging face. Her eyes become tentative as she takes in Scott's appearance, afraid that her father's question will somehow cause the boy to physically crumble. Chris inwardly rolls his eyes. Geeze. You'd think someone died.

He focuses on the two teens and takes note of the sudden tension that surrounds them. Their joined hands are lying innocuously on the table, an obvious juxtaposition to his loaded gun, and he watches as Scott's grip momentarily tightens around his daughter. While most would classify the action as a mere muscle spasm, Chris is well aware that it's one of Scott's many tells. He is attempting to reign in the beast, to control himself. There is an undercurrent of anxiety beneath the deafening silence that surrounds the group. Chris allows his gaze to shift between the teens and he does his best to categorize every breath, movement, and sound.

Scott is staring pointedly at an invisible dot on the table, and Chris can practically see the boy attempting to find a way to explain himself. He'd never been the brightest boy in the shed, and Chris thinks Scott's mind may just explode from the concentration. Scott's breaths are quickening and Chris can see that his grip on Allison isn't enough. He is one painful memory away from shifting and allowing the beast to take control. Chris's hand twitches towards his gun before he realizes that his daughter is already a step ahead of him. She grabs Scott's hand, kissing each knuckle, and presses their entwined hands to the base of her neck. She's letting the kid feel her heartbeat. Apparently Allison understands better than anyone the impact she has on the young wolf. Chris, though slightly wary of the proximity of Scott's hands to his daughter's chest, is impressed to see the effect of Allison's ingenuity.

Scott's eyes are closed and his breathing steadies with each passing second. As Allison takes her free hand to gently stroke his cheek Scott visibly relaxes, shoulders dropping, seemingly melting into Allison's warmth. Scott's eyes open, and while he looks utterly hopeless and exhausted, he also looks entirely human. No trace of the wolf. A small smile appears on Scott's face, almost tentative, and an identical grin appears on Allison simultaneously. Chris is somewhat awestruck as he watches the silent conversation that the two have, their eyes never leaving one another. Every breath and movement taken by the teens is done in tandem as though controlled by a magnetic field. Allison gives Scott an encouraging pat on the cheek and Chris understands it to be the end of their unspoken conversation.

With a resigned look Scott forces his eyes to meet Chris's. He looks wary and his eyes frequently flit towards Allison, as if assuring himself of her presence. While aware that Scott is only sixteen, looking at him now Chris can't help but think that Scott's age is a mere deception. The boy's experiences outweigh those of most adults. He's just a kid, sitting in front of him, and Chris doesn't think he's ever seen anyone look so haggard. Now entirely rid of blood and mud, Scott is completely exposed to the calculating gaze of Chris Argent. Chris takes note of the deep bags under the boy's eyes and finds himself pitying the young werewolf. Damn it. He's just a kid.

Scott's sixteen and Chris is forty-two. Scott's a werewolf and Chris is a werewolf hunter. Scott is below average in most classes and Chris was valedictorian. Chris lists their differences in his mind but it's not enough to prevent him from noticing their greatest similarity.

He sees it immediately when their gazes meet. There is a glint in Scott's eyes that wasn't present before. It's a glint that Chris acquired the day he met his old partner. A glint that is representative of the pain and nightmares that result from witnessing or experiencing death.

_Flashback_

He checks the map again to make sure he's heading in the right direction. He'd barely had his college diploma five minutes before his father had him driving to the middle of nowhere to chase a rogue beta. The forest is getting denser by the second and Chris is beginning to seriously think that this is just another one of his father's sadistic tests. He'd completed his hunter training at the tender age of eighteen, far earlier than most hunters, but that hadn't stopped his father from springing the occasional "assessment," on him. Protocol, he'd told him. A means of ensuring that Chris's skills stayed as sharp as the daggers strapped to his body.

He grabs the yellow post-it from the dashboard of the car and confirms that the coordinates he had hastily scribbled down were meant to lead him into the abandoned preserve. His fellow graduates are probably celebrating their foray into the real world with endless rounds of drinks and frivolity. He lets out a harsh laugh when thinking of the "real world." The consensus was that the definition of, "the real world," included a family, a steady nine-to-five job, and the idyllic home, white picket fence and all. Hell, maybe even a dog. What a load of bullshit.

His collegiate friends, walking around in drunken stupors, had no knowledge of the real world. They allow themselves a naivety that Chris had never been privy to. People were perfectly content allowing themselves to disregard their surroundings, more than happy to conform to society's definition of reality. Chris knows better though. He knows that while, yes, his future will most likely consist of a wife and children, it most definitely won't involve the typical job. Sure, he and his family can have the white picket fence, but they won't have it long enough to unpack their boxes before the next move. What he knows for sure is that there will be no dog in his future. Because, he has a feeling, after hunting them down every day, he sure as hell won't want to come home to a mutt.

For Chris Argent, the only truly consistent reality, involves the existence of werewolves. And most deserve to die. Which is why, instead of celebrating his graduation of college with honors, he is alone in the woods on his way to help kill a rabid animal.

The road ends and Chris realizes that the rest of his journey will have to be on foot. He grabs the worn map and shoves it in his pocket while reaching for the gun that was resting on top of his discarded graduation robes. He can feel the adrenaline slowly make its way into his veins and begins to feel the familiar wave of excitement that comes with the danger of the hunt. Casting a quick glance into the mirror, Chris schools his eagerness, expertly putting on the mask that his father had trained him to wear. He exits the car, closing the door with his foot, and cocks his gun. He's ready.

The trek through the woods is done with ease. He had spent countless summers with Kate exploring the various forests near their temporary homes. Often not by choice. He thinks it's a little disconcerting how many times he had woken up blindfolded in the middle of the woods, removed from his bed while sleeping, and timed to see how quickly he could find his way home. He still won't ever admit it, but the barbaric tests designed by his father allowed him to become the hunter he is today, always a slight step ahead of the rest.

He hears something to his right and his gun is out in an instant. The familiar weight is reassuring to him, and the fear he had felt as a child lost in the woods is now non-existent. Whatever he heard is far enough away, but with each passing second Chris can hear that they -or _it_- is fast approaching. He holds his ground, gun never wavering, eyes constantly flicking between the trees that are encompassing him. Twigs are snapping left and right and Chris realizes too late that he's surrounded. He doesn't change his stance, but quickly grabs the second gun tucked into his jeans.

He may be surrounded but he sure as hell isn't about to go down without a fight.

A bark of laughter echoes in the forest and Chris inwardly groans. A dozen men, dressed and armed identically, appear simultaneously from the shadows of the trees and Chris instantly seeks out the face of the man behind the laughter. He can feel a presence behind him and Chris slowly turns to meet the condescending gaze of his father.

"Well, now that my son has finally decided to show up… Let's go kill a werewolf." Gerard is addressing all of the hunters, but his cold stare never leaves Chris's face. Chris lets out a resigned sigh as his father barks orders to the men. Gerard begins to pair them off and Chris has a sinking feeling that he'll draw the short straw and once again get stuck with his father. When he sees Gerard branch off with another hunter into the woods, haphazardly turning to yell, "The two of you head northeast," Chris realizes that tonight's hunt will not involve the father-son team of Argent. He'd be lying if he said he was disappointed.

Turning his head, Chris sees that he and another boy, maybe a year or two his senior, are the only hunters left. He extends his hand and feels a sudden wave of uneasiness when the other boy grasps his hand in his own. "Chris." His voice is steady when he introduces himself. He knows it's unnecessary since he is in fact an Argent, and every hunter in the U.S. is aware of the Argent bloodline, but he does it nonetheless. This is his new partner after all, who knows how long they'll work together. The boy nods as he responds, "Andrew. I'm Andrew."

The conversation is surprisingly easy between the two. There is an instantaneous feeling of camaraderie and by the time they stumble across the rogue beta, Chris has pushed aside is initial uneasiness towards Andrew, accepting the boy as a new friend and confidant. Watching the boy unload an entire round of ammo into the beta's head without blinking was more than enough to bring back Chris's apprehension. He had been taught at an early age the importance of the code and watching a beta, no older than himself, get gunned downed without having spoken a word cemented Chris's belief that the code exists for a reason. Killing in such a brutal fashion, Chris feels, highlighted the true animal of the night. The wolf isn't the animal, Chris knows this, but the other hunters don't share his opinion.

When the entire hunting party regroups, he and Andrew receive congratulatory pats on the back and firm handshakes of respect. His father pats him on the cheek and praises him for a job well done. He thinks it's the first time Gerard has been openly proud of him. Andrew is all smiles as he slings an arm around Chris's shoulders and speaks of the years to come, a dynamic duo that will be revered by hunters across the nation. Chris doesn't let his mask slip once in front of his colleagues. Not even for a second. But the second he slides into his customary SUV, the smile leaves his face. The glance in the mirror tells him what he already knew. He's a different person now. The excited glint present in his eyes mere hours before has been replaced by a look he never wanted to see in himself. It's a look that he had grown familiar with after years of learning the family business. He forces his eyes in front of him and pointedly ignores the man in the mirror. He's no longer Chris. He's Argent now. An accomplice. A hunter. A killer.

_End Flashback_

He looks at Scott now and is suddenly overcome with a feeling of sadness. Chris had chosen his path at an early age, he knew what was in store for him and had continued to establish himself as the perfect hunter. It isn't until right now that Chris truly understands how much had been unwillingly forced upon Scott's shoulders. The boy hadn't asked for the bite in fact, he had vocalized on numerous occasions his wish for normalcy. And yet, here he is, sitting in front of him with a look that was completely haunting to Chris.

He glances to his left and picks up his gun, blatantly ignoring Allison's widening eyes and protests of, "Dad!" The weapon has only increased in familiarity over the years, which means that Chris is able to disarm it in seconds. He is entirely focused on his task and finds solace in the routine. The cartridge drops into his hands and he makes a show of removing every bullet. They fall from his hands onto the floor in quick succession and he replaces the now empty gun in its designated place on the table.

Looking up for the first time he almost laughs at the comical looks on Scott's face. It's face is pinched in utter confusion as he looks quizzically between Chris and the gun, scrutinizing the two with a look of slight distrust. It takes a moment for the boy to fully register the implications behind Chris's actions and the elder Argent can see the exact second Scott puts all of the pieces together. His slightly gaping mouth snaps shut and he gazes at Chris with new resolve. Chris thinks Scott's unwavering gaze could give Gerard's a run for its money, he doesn't think he's ever felt so vulnerable and uncomfortable under another person's stare.

Scott's face suddenly transforms, it's almost imperceptible but Chris sees it. The hardness in the boy's eyes dissipates and his lips quirk in what Chris assumes his supposed to be an attempt at a smile. There is a mutual respect present between the two and Chris nods in affirmation to Scott. He doesn't even hesitate to firmly shake Scott's hand when the boy tentatively extends it across the table. The exchange is quick but the previously palpable tension in the room dissipates immediately. The two share another nod before simultaneously turning their heads to face Allison.

This time he does laugh. Her mouth is agape and her eyes are rounder than he's ever seen them. Her hand is raised and her finger is moving on its own accord between Scott and himself. Her head is in constant motion and she quickly switches her gaze between the two men. "What… You… What just happened?" She is completely incredulous and Chris can do nothing but shrug in her direction while explaining himself. "We came to an understanding." Her brows furrow and her mouth drops another millimeter. "You… You came to a… What?" Scott rolls his eyes at her, crossing his arms in response while motioning for her to look at Scott.

Her eyes move to her boyfriend and she does a double take when she sees that he id red in the face from laughing at her. Allison's eyebrows shoot up in surprise as her face quickly morphs into one of indignation. She turns her head and stares forward, crossing her arms like her father while pointedly avoiding looking at him. "You… Your face… Oh my god… Allison…" Scott can barely breath and Chris is grateful that, this time, the lack of breath has been caused by laughter rather than a bullet to the lungs. He chances a glance at his daughter, still trying to be mad at the men in her life, and notices that there is a light in her eyes that hadn't been present since Scott had stumbled across their threshold. He realizes that it's a light that is only ever present when Scott is with her.

Scott seems to finally realize that Allison is silently fuming beside him, and quickly does his best to compose himself, wiping his eyes while letting out the occasional chuckle. He peers at Allison, coughs awkwardly, and places his hand between them on the table palm-up. A wry smile crosses face when, with a small huff of annoyance that doesn't really fool anyone, Allison reaches out and entwines her fingers with Scott's. Scott smiles at the contact but quickly sobers when he realizes why the three of them are sitting at the table. His eyes meet Chris's and he takes a deep breath.


End file.
